War Traveller
by davesilky
Summary: She was never meant to be there - and yet, she somehow fit right in. A modern-day paratrooper's journey through war-torn Europe. (Speirs/OC)
1. The Big Jump of 2013

**Author's Note:** Well now. It has certainly been a long time since I've posted anything to FF, especially in the Band of Brothers category. It's funny - my first story ever on my first FF account ever was a BoB story. That being said, my writing's certainly come a long way since that first story, and I'm beyond excited to see where it goes.

Anyway, some quick housekeeping nonsense before I present chapter 1:

 **I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Band of Brothers; I only claim ownership to my main character, Maggie, and any other personalities you don't recognize. Furthermore, I mean no disrespect to the real men that lived through those years of hell on earth and sacrificed everything. It is for this reason that I'm drawing strictly from the miniseries. To do otherwise would be nothing short of an insult. If it comes to a point where I need to add some background to a pre-established character, I may just make up some minor details to fill those holes. Again, I mean no disrespect, and I hope that comes across clearly in my writing.**

 **Also, NOTE: most - if not all - of my present day military info comes from two friends of mine who are parachutists with the 101st. While their info is STUPIDLY SUPER helpful, I'm always open to further suggestions and the like.**

OKAY. WHEW. Now that we've got that out of the way, I present to you, dear readers, the first chapter of my story, _War Traveller._ Enjoy, and please leave a review and let me know what you think! :)

* * *

If there was anything that Maggie Hansen hated about jumping out of airplanes, it was those moments of transit, those periods of time in between taking off from the airstrip and flinging herself out the rear door of a C-17.

Alfa Company had been up in the air now for about 20 minutes, bumping and jolting along over pockets of turbulence, shuddering in the wind, cruising towards the vicinity of the drop zone, which was still a good 10 minutes out from their current position in the air. Maggie had been unable to stop fidgeting since the plane had taken off; her right knee had been bouncing nonstop, and she'd taken to lightly drumming the fingers of her left hand against the fingers of her right, movements and behavior that were shared by various other parachutists sitting around her. Like her, they were also impatient and anxious to jump. After all, it had been a while since Alfa had gone out for a jump, static-line or otherwise.

Maggie felt a nudge in her left shoulder. Glancing over, she met the smirking gaze of one T4 Michael Watkins. She mirrored the smirk. "Am I bugging you yet, Watkins?" she yelled over the drone of the C-17.

"Nah, man," he yelled back. "You're crackin' me up, though!"

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"'S that finger twiddlin' shit you keep doin'! Wassup with that?"

"Anxiety, dude! I just wanna get the fuck outta this plane!"

The smirk on Watkins' face widened at that. "You're in luck then!" he said before pointing to the light by the door, which had blazed to life in bright red. "Hope you're ready to fly, bitch!"

"Always, asshole!"

No sooner had the words left Maggie's mouth than the jump master sprang up from his seat by the door. "GET READY!" he belted out as he signaled with his arms and hands. "OUTBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"

Everyone on the outboard side of the C-17 stood up, static line hooks in hand and gear all stowed and squared and ready to go.

"INBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"

All others on the inboard side reacted in the same manner as those on the outboard sides.

The jump master motioned to the two parallel cables running overhead, then crooked his index fingers and pumped his arms thrice in an up-and-down motion. "HOOK UP!"

At this command, each parachutist detached their static line hook from the top handle of their reserve chute, reached up, and attached it to their respective cable.

"CHECK STATIC LINES!"

Everyone took a glance at their own static line and the static line of the parachutist in front of them, then felt at them with their free hand as a precaution. Once everything looked good, the parachutist in front of them was given a pat on the shoulder and something along the lines of "You're good, man!" Maggie couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when she felt Watkins clap a hand on her shoulder and heard his verbal confirmation. She knew she'd done everything correctly, but it was still a relief to receive the confirmation.

"CHECK EQUIPMENT!"

Several full-body pat-downs began - people prodded and patted at each other's helmets, then moved down to the chin strap, to the retention straps, to the leg straps, and further down until the person behind each parachutist was satisfied that nothing was out of place or undone.

"SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!"

They did - loudly.

Once all had been accounted for and the Number 1 parachutist had yelled out "All okay, jump master," everyone was ordered to stand by. Maggie heaved an impatient sigh. As usual, there was more waiting and nothingness to endure. GOD, she hated how long it took to actually _get out_ of the plane...

She leaned back, glanced over her shoulder at Watkins. "I swear," she yelled, "they do this just to torture me!"

"You know what they say about the Army! 'Hurry up' and 'stand by' are their favorite things to say!"

"Yeah, don't remind me..."

Once more, though, Maggie found herself in luck; at that moment, the yellow 'stand by' light had blazed to life, and one of the techs on board had unbolted the rear door and raised it up in preparation for the jump. The roar of the jets and the air current filled the cabin, and the sound sent a thrilled tingle down Maggie's spine. This was it, she thought - this was the big time. In seconds, she would be doing what few rational humans dared to do. In that exact moment, she couldn't be more excited.

"PREPARE TO JUMP IN TEN!"

The stretch of paratroopers in front of Maggie immediately shuffled forward, closer to the door, with the Number 1 leaning out the door and the jump master beside him counting down with his fingers. 9... 8... 7... 6...

"FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! GO, GO, GO!"

The green light blazed, and out flew the Number 1. It didn't take long after he went for the others behind him to follow, each parachutist breaking into a run as they neared the door. Maggie, all the way in the back of the line with Watkins and a small handful of others, was practically sprinting by the time she got to the door and flung herself out and into the air.

Though the free fall was - extremely - short-lived, it was undeniably one of the most exciting (and simultaneously nerve-wracking) parts of the whole jump. What came after the free fall, the opening of the parachute, wasn't so much exciting as it was relieving. It was proof of things gone well, a sure-fire sign that the parachutist wasn't about to plummet to the ground and his inevitable death. Indeed, it was quite a relief when the chute finally opened.

Maggie couldn't help but cackle when her chute blossomed over her head and she began her slow descent to the ground below. Oh, what a thing of beauty it was. No matter how many times she did it, no matter how many time she flung herself out of the back of a C-17 or a C-130, the experience and thrill never got old, and it likely never would.

She grinned, and tugged on the risers to steer herself in the direction of the LZ. Oh, how _amazing_ it all was _._

* * *

2 hours later, when all members of Alfa Company had assembled and all was said and done, everyone was sitting in the squad bay, waiting to hear the day's events and announcements. Just like with the jump, Maggie found herself at the rear of the company, sitting and hanging out with Watkins and a few of his buddies, listening to them argue about Call of Duty as a replacement for combat - or some such nonsense. With them, Maggie could never really be sure _what_ they were arguing about.

It didn't matter much, though, because just when the argument was _really_ starting to get heated ("No, fuck you man, _Halo_ is NOT a combat replacer!"), in walked Captain Klemenhagen with a loud "Ten-hut!" With that, everyone in the squad bay jumped and stood at attention, thus silencing the bickering.

"At ease."

As the company relaxed into parade rest, Klemenhagen launched into a recap of the day's static-line jump. Being a straightforward man of relatively few words, he didn't bother with endless babbling and drivel like some other officers might have; rather, he nodded in satisfaction, then smirked. "Ass-kickin' Alfa strikes again."

For that, he got a loud, resounding "HOOAH!"

"All right, all right, settle down. On to more important things. Now, as you guys already know, today's jump was only the first of five. Alfa's got their next one tomorrow afternoon at 1200 hours. You guys all know the drill - make sure your things are all squared away, and if you have _any_ doubts about how your chute's packed, repack it. We haven't had any chute issues so far this year; let's keep it that way..."

Klemenhagen's voice faded as Maggie tuned out. In the four years she'd been in the army, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. Just as well, he was coming to the end of the briefing, so it wasn't like there was much else to say or much for her to pay attention to.

Soon enough, the briefing ended, and Alfa Company was dismissed. Following that and dinner in the mess hall, with the exception of standing at attention for colors in the evening, what remained of the day was Alfa's to do whatever they wanted. For some, that meant getting ready to hit up one of the bars near base; for others, that meant congregating in packs of four in someone else's room for some form of shenanigans, be it video game-related or otherwise.

For Maggie, that meant retreating to her room and curling up with her laptop and a few episodes of Friends. It had been a long, fairly busy day; she'd earned the right to be lazy, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

She maneuvered back to her barracks, ambled slowly up the stairs and down the hall to her room. Her next-door and cross-hall neighbors, two young PFCs with a penchant for loud music and stupid antics, were already stripped down to their tan t-shirts and shorts when Maggie walked by. Per their usual routine, they were also bouncing around to absurdly obnoxious music. The song of the day? House of Pain's _Jump Around_.

Maggie couldn't help but chuckle as she passed them. "Isn't House of Pain a little old for you guys?"

One of the PFCs, Nagies, shook his head and grinned at her. "Nah fam! This shit never gets old!"

"Hey Hansen, you wanna join in? We're always down to get cray-cray with the ladies!"

"Yeah, Rodriguez, I'll bet you are. I'm gonna pass though."

"Whaaaat? You always pass though!" Rodriguez whined.

"Yeah, and for good reason," Maggie snarked back before smirking and continuing on her way to her room. "You kids enjoy your evening. Try not to piss off the neighbors."

Nagies let out a loud snort. "Hansen, do you even _know_ who you're talking to?"

Maggie rolled her eyes but said nothing, choosing instead to head in for the evening and leave Rodriguez and Nagies to their own devices.

As soon as she'd passed through the door, she shut it behind her, sat on her bed, and began to undress. She was slow, methodical, beginning from the bottom with her boots, then her socks. Her belt came next, followed by her pants, which she folded neatly and placed on the desk opposite the bed. Once she'd done that, she undid her jacket, and placed it on top of the pants, along with her tan undershirt. The last part of the process involved reaching behind her head and pulling out the elastics holding her bun in place, and she sighed happily as she shook her ginger hair out. At last, sweet relief.

After pulling on a worn gray sweatshirt and a pair of khaki green shorts, Maggie grabbed her laptop off her desk and flopped on her bed with a groan. She then sat up against the headboard with her pillow sandwiched between it and her back, opened her laptop, and cruised through her Facebook feed for a bit. As usual, there was nothing too exciting - girls she knew from high school were squealing about how much fun they were all having with their 'besties' in Mexico or wherever, her Aunt Carol was sharing recipes for food guaranteed to give a person a heart attack, a girl she did Irish dance with in high school was - still - posting pictures from her wedding that happened eight months ago, and the few people in the army that she'd allowed herself to be Facebook friends with were sharing Terminal Lance comic strips and videos of stupid barracks antics. Interesting, to be sure, but nothing overly out of the ordinary.

Maggie sighed, continued scrolling through the feed - and promptly stopped when she went past a collection of pictures. More specifically, pictures of her during her first tour in Afghanistan.

The majority of them were of her dancing with some kids from a local village, or of her, Watkins, and a small handful of others chatting with nameless adults. In most of them she wasn't even aware that her picture was being taken; she was far too busy smiling, laughing, and having a good time with the kids to really notice.

There was one in particular that made her pause. It was of her and a little girl in a yellow hijab, and the little girl was giggling as Maggie stood beside her, her feet crossed in Irish third position and her hands on her hips. Ah - she remembered that moment. She'd demonstrated Irish dance for the kids in the village, and, upon seeing the little girl imitating her, had given her an impromptu lesson.

Her heart twitched. God, how young she was in that picture - 19 years old, fresh out of high school, the whole world at her feet... And there she was, teaching Irish dance to a kid living in a country ravaged by war.

Her cursor hovered over the picture for a moment, then trailed down towards the share symbol. _Write post?_

 _Write post._ Maggie's fingers flittered over the keyboard.

 **From now on, when people ask me why I serve, I'm just going to point them to this. Peace, freedom, and smiles for EVERYONE.**

No sooner had she hit the 'post' button than there came three quick knocks on the door. Maggie frowned.

"Who is it?"

"Your favorite T4," Watkins' voice replied from the other side. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

He didn't come in all the way at first - just cracked the door open a bit and poked his head through the space. "Me, Nellis and Sutherland are gonna go to O'Conners' Pub for a little bit. You wanna come with?"

Maggie shook her head. "Nah. Think I'm gonna stay in."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer, though."

"No prob." _Now_ Watkins saw fit to walk into the room, and he made his way over to Maggie. "What're you up to?"

"Not much - surfing Facebook, probably gonna watch Friends in a little bit." She smirked softly. "Those pictures from our first deployment just showed up in my feed as a memory."

Watkins frowned. "What pictures? Wait - ohhh, shit, you mean the ones we took in Tandurak?"

"The very same." She spun the laptop around for him to see. "Crazy that this was already four years ago, huh?"

"Yeah. Feels like yesterday... You know, I still think about it - Tandurak and all that."

"I'm pretty sure everyone still thinks about Tandurak these days," Maggie said quietly. Even now the memories she'd acquired there were rushing through her head - images of smoke rising high and the sounds of frantic Arabic and then... silence. When Maggie took another look at the picture she'd just shared, her heart gave another twitch - and this time it wasn't one of nostalgia.

"Yeah... Well... I'mma leave you to it. Enjoy your binge watch."

Then, Watkins turned on his heel, and slipped through the door, leaving Maggie alone once again. She heaved a sigh, took a final look at the picture, and exited out of Facebook before pulling up iTunes and her pirated collection of Friends episodes. She didn't want to think about the memories that had begun to surface in her mind. She wasn't in the mood for them.

 _Just don't think about it. Wipe your brain, don't think about it. Whatever you do, don't think about it._

And so, for the next few hours, she did just that. When she finally decided to call it quits for the night, the memories had subsided and retreated back to the dark corners of her mind once more. Maggie knew that they would come back again - they always did, and they struck harder than before. For now, though, they were dormant, and that was all that mattered to her.

She placed her laptop on the desk, shut off the light, and slipped into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

The next day started out very much like the one before - with an early rise, an early breakfast, and an immediate dismissal to check packs and parachutes one last time for the impending jump.

That, and several rounds of DMX, Lil Wayne, and tUnE-yArDs from Nagies and Rodriguez.

And, just like the day before, Maggie paid them and their music no mind. Rather, she focused all her attention on kitting herself out, then on packing her chutes properly and making sure all her other gear was prepped and ready to go. She'd heard plenty of horror stories about chute failure and gruesome deaths and the like, and she certainly wasn't going to let that happen to her. She must've packed and repacked her main and reserve chutes three times before she finally decided that they were safely packed and ready to go.

Hours passed - one, two, three... They were approaching a fourth hour when they finally got the order to saddle up and head off for the tarmac. _About damn time,_ Maggie's thoughts grumbled. Waiting patiently had never been her strong suit; the ways of the Airborne had only exacerbated her impatience.

As she trudged off to the tarmac with the rest of the company, Watkins came up beside her. He chuckled. "No shit, you look like you're gonna tip over."

Maggie quirked an eyebrow as she turned her gaze towards him. "Yeah, so do you, short round."

"Hey, what did I tell you about cracks to my height?"

It was now Maggie's turn to chuckle. "Sorry homie, your height's fair game in the Army."

"Ah, fuck you." He socked Maggie in the shoulder, who laughed. Riling up Watkins was always a good time.

They continued on their way, intermingling with dozens of others in the company who just as weighed down with parachutes and gear as they were, snarking and jabbing at each other the whole way. They were still snarking at each other when they finally shuffled and crowded into their waiting C-17 (although Klemenhagen quickly shut them up with a stern glance and a raised eyebrow).

With a heavy exhale, Maggie took her seat on the outboard left side of the plane, her legs spread wide to accommodate the ruck dangling between her legs. It only then occurred to her that she was sitting in the seat right by one of the rear doors, which meant that she was looking at being the left-side Number 1 for this jump. In her four years of service, it had to be the first time that she'd ever had the privilege (for lack of a better term) of being in that position.

 _It's no big deal, Hansen. Just remember your training and you'll do fine._

She had to keep reminding herself of that as the plane barreled down the runway and pushed off into the air.

For the first ten minutes, it was quiet, save for the droning of the propellers. Everyone was too preoccupied with their thoughts, too busy mentally running through their training and trying to dredge up helpful tips and tricks they'd acquired from previous jumps. It was as routine of a jump as it could possibly get and this certainly wasn't Alfa's first time doing this, but nobody wanted to screw it up.

The silence extended into the passes. The first pass, quiet. The second pass, also quiet. In between the second and third pass, though... That's when things started getting busy. Klemenhagen stood up, briefly exchanged words with the jump master, then turned to address the rows of troopers sitting before him.

"All right, you guys know the drill!" he yelled over the thrum of the engines. "Straight down and straightforward! No stupid shit with your chutes! I want you guys getting down quickly and hauling ass over to the assembly area! Speed is key here! Do I make myself clear?"

"Clear, Captain!" was the response he got. He nodded curtly.

"Good! Now stay alert! We'll be making our third pass in a moment and then we'll be going from there!" He then turned to Maggie. "Corporal Hansen!"

"Sir?"

"Since you're sitting closest to the door, you'll be the Number 1 this time!"

 _Tell me something I don't know -_ "Yes, sir!"

The conversation - if it could even be called that - ended immediately after that, and as Klemenhagen returned to his seat on the inboard side opposite her, Maggie heaved a sigh. As always, a man of few words and zero bullshit.

Before she could further ruminate on the ways of Klemenhagen, the red light flickered to life, and the jump master sprang up and began procedure.

"GET READY! OUTBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"

Maggie jumped up, hook in her left hand, and stood at the ready.

"INBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"

Everyone standing opposite Maggie stood up, crunched into line behind her with their hooks in hand.

"HOOK UP!"

As the jump master motioned with his hands, Maggie reached up and clipped her hook to the static line running above her.

"CHECK STATIC LINES!"

Seeing as she was going to be the first one out the door and thus had no one in front of her to worry about, Maggie just sent a nod to the jump master. She'd done this hundreds of times before. She knew what she was doing and what to look for.

"CHECK EQUIPMENT!"

She felt hands ghost over her back side as the person behind her poked and patted for anything that may have been out of place. As they did that, she patted down her front side, nodding to herself - nothing out of place. She was good to go.

"SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!"

It took a moment for the verbal confirmation to reach her. When she heard the trooper behind her yell out that he was okay, Maggie pointed to the jump master and yelled out, "All okay, jump master!"

"STAND BY FOR JUMP!"

Save for the droning of the propeller that filled it, the cabin was quiet. Maybe not entirely quiet, thanks to the antics of the guys behind her, but at the very least Maggie was quiet, the outside silent while the inside was awhirl with thoughts, feelings, wondering. Would this be anything like yesterday's jump? Would it be different in any way? What would happen? _Could_ something happen?

 _C'mon genius, anything could happen. You've known that ever since you joined up in '09..._

With a sigh, she glanced up towards the signal lights, and her mouth curled up into a half-smile when she saw that the standby light was on. It curled into a full-on smile when the tech stood up and began unbolting the door. _This is it. This is it, this is it, here we go..._

She shuffled forward, leaned ever so slightly out the door - and frowned when she saw clouds passing below them. For starters, if they were flying over clouds then one had to wonder just how high up they were in the sky. They weren't just any clouds, either - in fact, they were some of the blackest, nastiest looking ones Maggie had ever seen, more akin to billowing smoke than anything else. That was strange; there hadn't been any rain or otherwise crummy weather forecast for today - so what the hell were they doing here?

Maggie turned to look over at the jump master, face writ with concern. "Sir!"

"What is it, Corporal?"

"I, uh... I think you wanna see this, sir!"

It was now the jump master's turn to frown as he walked over and poked his head out the door to look below. Clearly, he was just as startled by the appearance of the clouds as Maggie was, because his forehead immediately creased into a deep V and he reached for the radio attached to his shoulder. "Jump master to cockpit, where the hell did these clouds come from? Was there rain or poor weather forecast for today?"

Nothing, save for fuzz and static, came back over the radio. He tried again.

"Jump master to cockpit, are you receiving?"

No answer. That couldn't be good.

"The fuck... Jump master to cockpit, are you-"

The plane suddenly began to rattle, so much so that Maggie could feel the tremors coming up through her feet and passing through her body like a wave. It was comparable to going over bumps in a gravel road; this, however, was far more nerve-wracking than what it would've been in a car.

And then it got worse.

Without warning, the plane began to shake and tremble, shuddering over pockets of turbulence that had troopers scrambling to grab on to each other and the walls for stability. Groaning filled the cabin, either from the men or the plane itself; no one could be sure. The only thing that anyone was sure of was that _none_ of this was supposed to be happening.

"HANSEN!" yelled Klemenhagen. "HANSEN, GET OUTTA THE DOOR!"

She didn't need to be told twice. She snaked her arms back inside, and was preparing to push herself backwards into the safety of the cabin when the plane lurched sideways and jolted across a massive pocket of turbulence - and suddenly, with a shriek of surprise and terror, she was thrown up and dumped out the door into the great wide yonder.

"HANSEN!"

It was too late, though - Maggie was gone before her name had even left Klemenhagen's mouth.

She quickly began twisting and spiraling through the air, falling too fast for her to figure out which way was up and right herself - and free-falling far longer than she should've been.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit why wasn't her parachute opening?

Her breath started coming in panicked gasps and black spots danced in her line of vision, but she wasn't sure if they were the evil-looking clouds she'd been flying over only moments ago, or warning signs of an impending terror blackout. As the wind whistled and roared past her, Maggie suddenly found herself hurtling through thick, choking black fog - the clouds, she quickly realized. Falling through these clouds was nothing short of terrifying - not because she'd never fallen through them before, but because it was absolute chaos inside. Lightning flashed and crackled all around her, and the wind howled and tossed her up and down, left and right, to and fro, like a rag doll - and all the while she kept spiraling, trying frantically to get her parachute to open.

"You stupid fucking piece of _shit_ open alre-AAAAAGH!"

A sound akin to a whine or TV static cut through Maggie like a knife, shattering her ears and stabbing into the back of her head, forcing her hands to slam down over her ears and a pained yell to rip from her throat. Lightning surged around her and the sound grew even louder, even more intense as the seconds ticked by, until it felt like Maggie's skull was being splintered and her body was being crushed from all sides by it. Chute temporarily forgotten, she curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut, her yell of pain turning into an outright scream of agony and terror. _Save me,_ begged a voice in the recesses of her brain. _Save me, please god someone fucking save me..._

She fell through clouds, lightning, raw sonic power.

 _Save me, save me save me SAVE ME! SAVE ME!_

The noise persisted, and though the noise was probably getting louder in reality, it seemed like it was fading to Maggie.

 _Save me... Save me..._

The clouds suddenly parted, and the ground appeared in Maggie's line of vision, a blackish-green fuzz of trees that grew bigger as she drew closer to it.

 _Save me... Save me..._

Her eyes began to flutter shut. All the while, the ground came closer, closer, closer. By now, the chute had wrapped itself around her legs like a python, condemning her to a gruesome death scattered across the LZ. This was it - this was her end.

 _Save... Me..._

Her vision spun, the ground rushed up - and then the whole world went black.


	2. The Warp

**Author's Note:** I'm not gonna lie, writing that first chapter was probably the hardest part of this whole thing by far - probably because I'm so damn excited to get to _this_ part of the story. Anyway, I'll shut up and let you read. Enjoy! :)

 **Disclaimer:** As always, I don't own _Band of Brothers._ Most importantly, though, I mean absolutely no disrespect to the real men of E Company and the sacrifices they made. I'm just here to have some fun with the characters in the miniseries.

* * *

Maggie awoke with a sudden, strangled gasp, her whole body aching, almost as though she'd been clubbed back into consciousness.

Or she'd shattered every bone in her body. Or she'd hit the ground at speeds upwards of 120 miles per hour. Or she'd fallen from a height that definitely should've killed her.

As her breathing came back and the daze wore off little by little, images began to flash through Maggie's head - crowding into a C-17 with dozens upon dozens of other paratroopers; standing up in preparation for their static-line jump; the plane jolting as it hit turbulence, and falling out the rear door and being tossed around by the air current; and falling, falling, falling, through pitch-black clouds and lightning storms, a terrified scream ripping from her throat just before her vision went dark and the ground swallowed her up...

Instantly she froze. Was she... _dead?_

She pawed at herself with trembling, unsure hands, releasing a shaky breath when she felt only the smoothness of her ACUs and the hump of her fully-stuffed ruck, and not her broken bones sticking out of her body at odd angles. However, confusion and disbelief still plagued her, so she rolled up a sleeve and pinched herself, _hard._

She paused then. She'd felt the pinch. That meant she couldn't be dead.

If she wasn't dead, though, then what was going on?

No - she _had_ to be. She'd blacked out and she'd plummeted to the ground. No one in the world could survive a fall from that height and at that speed. Right now she should've been a pancake, a big, broken, bloody pulp staining the ground she was lying on.

But Maggie wasn't. Somehow, she'd survived that fall; she'd cheated death, and there wasn't even a scratch on her.

Slowly, she sat up, taking in her surroundings - trees and scrubby forest foliage - before turning her gaze to the sky above. It was no longer choked with thunderheads so black that they seemed almost purple, nor was there lightning to be seen anywhere; rather, it was pearl gray and pleasantly cloudy, exactly as it had been when they'd taken off.

She found it puzzling, however, that it wasn't dotted with blooming parachutes. That it _absolutely_ should've been.

Maybe she'd been out for a while; it _was_ entirely possible that an hour or two had passed while she was unconscious, and that could've easily explained why the sky was so empty.

And yet, Maggie somehow doubted this. Surely _someone_ would've seen her falling and gone to find her as soon as they'd landed.

Her stomach began to twist into knots. She needed to find her unit - immediately.

Taking time to make sure that her legs weren't broken or anything of the like, she hauled herself to her feet, body sagging under the weight of her ruck, her rifle, and the 38 pounds of parachute strapped to her, and headed off towards base.

At least, she tried to.

Maggie soon found herself stumbling and trudging through miles of dense forest, unable to get her bearings (for lack of a compass, which she'd apparently left behind in her barracks... God damn it) and discern just where in the blue hell she was. She could smell rain in the air, either a sign of a storm to come or a storm on its way out. She hoped for the latter; hauling back well over 80 pounds of gear while soaking wet was the last thing Maggie wanted to do.

She pressed on. Twigs snapped and old, dead leaves crunched beneath her boots, a rather ominous sound in the emptiness of the forest. It was yet another thing that Maggie found puzzling, concerning. She should've been able to hear C-17s, C-130s, and helicopters roaring overhead, regardless of how far away from base she was. That she couldn't hear them (or anything, save for her own breathing and the pounding of her heart against her ribcage) only made her stomach twist even more. Something was wrong here - very, _very_ wrong. Either the pilot had completely missed the LZ and she'd landed way out in the woods outside base, or... or _something._ Maggie couldn't quite place her finger on it; with any luck, however, her fellow troopers or one of her COs would be able to explain things to her. Lord knows _she_ couldn't.

She was just approaching a berm, near an area where the trees had begun to thin out, when _it_ happened.

There were voices murmuring not too far from where Maggie was - what she guessed was a search party or patrol of sorts. Perhaps they'd come looking for her. It filled her with a great sense of relief as she began clambering over the berm to meet up with the voices.

"Thank God," she started with a groan. "You wouldn't believe what I..."

But it wasn't a search party, nor was it a patrol.

No - it was two men, and, dressed in olive drabs and toting almost new-looking M1 Garand rifles, the both of them looked like they'd just stepped out of a World War II reenactment.

 _What the fuck?_

Both heads immediately snapped up and turned in her direction, and it was at this moment that Maggie realized she'd said the words out loud.

For a moment, nobody spoke, perhaps because they were too shocked or confused to say anything. Then, one of the men, a tall guy with black hair, brown eyes, and a hawkish nose, regained his composure and jabbed a finger in Maggie's direction. "You!" he yelled out, his voice warbling slightly. "Who are you?"

"Who are _you_?!"

"Who I am is of no concern to you at the moment! You are trespassing on United States Army property and are in direct violation of federal law!"

Trespassing? What on earth was this guy talking about? What in the everloving hell was going on here?

"Trespassing? Wha... What do you mean, trespassing-"

"Do I have to repeat myself?" the man snapped. "You are standing within the grounds of a training exercise and are in _direct violation of federal law_!"

 _Okay, enough of this shit -_ "Well, _you're_ standing on the grounds of an airborne LZ!" Maggie snapped back. It was a - sort of - lie, but she needed this guy to cut the B.S. and this was the only way she could think of to make him to do it. "I dunno who the hell you are and where you get off thinking you can talk to me like you're actual military personnel, but that shit ain't gonna fly!"

" _Excuse me?_ "

Maggie heaved an exasperated sigh. "Look dude, can you just point me in the direction of the assembly area? I need to find my unit, pronto. My CO's probably wondering where the hell I am and you're not helping-"

"Oh no, missy, you're not going anywhere. You're coming with me."

"What, no-"

"Now!"

Thick, tense silence permeated the space between the two for one, two, three seconds. In that time, Maggie found herself glancing at the man's collar, having noticed a glimmer, a flash of metal. She had to bite back a groan when she saw Captain's bars pinned to the collar. So not only was this guy an asshole, but he was an officer, too. _Great._

With a resigned sigh, Maggie decided to humor the guy. "Fine," she said stiffly, "I'll go."

 _Hopefully I'll get some answers and find out what the hell's going on._

 _Hopefully._

Trudging and slipping down the berm, she came to a standstill in front of the Captain, who immediately saw fit to grab her roughly by the arm and drag her along with him and the other man accompanying him. As much as she wanted to, Maggie refrained from protesting; something told her that she was no longer in any position to do so.

The other fellow walking alongside them, a small, weaselly-looking Sergeant whose name strip read Evans, sidled up to the Captain and murmured something to him - no doubt something along the lines of "What are we going to do?" _Funny_ , she thought. She was wondering the same thing.

The captain glanced down his nose at Maggie before turning to Sergeant Evans. "We have to take her to the Colonel."

"Shouldn't we at least radio in and let him know what's going on?"

No response.

"Captain Sobel?"

Maggie nearly choked when she heard that. Had she heard him correctly? Did he say what she thought he said? _Sobel?_ _SOBEL?_

She looked up, stole another glance at him, and only now did the recognition hit her full-force. Honest-to-fucking-god, it was him - Herbert M. Sobel, infamous leader of Easy Company in its early days, with his black hair, brown eyes, beakish nose, and true-to-form chickenshit behavior. How she'd missed recognizing the guy in the first place was completely beyond her, but now that she _had,_ Maggie couldn't help but wonder what else lay in store for her, couldn't help but wonder who else she was going to run into in this...

Christ, Maggie didn't even know _what_ it was. A hallucination? A fever dream? Some weird post-death vision? Maybe she _was_ dead, after all.

But she couldn't be. The hand gripping her arm felt much too real for it be an illusion and she'd already established that she wasn't dead.

And that's when the single most ludicrous thought she'd ever entertained in the history of _ever_ surfaced in her head.

Had she traveled through time?

No. No way, absolutely no way. Sci-fi shit like that was unheard of in everyday life and utterly impossible.

Was it, though? Was it really so far-fetched? Maggie wasn't one for outlandish thoughts and she certainly wasn't delusional or crazy, but how else could she explain the situation? Two men she simultaneously knew nothing and everything about were walking beside her, alive and well and _far_ from dramatically aged, dressed in outrageously outdated military uniforms, toting outrageously outdated military hardware, and behaving like discovering her average joe ass was a grave matter of security.

 _Well, YEAH idiot, of course finding you's a matter of security. Look at you!_ _They probably think you're a German spy or something!_

Maggie's face immediately went pale. Oh, fuck. _Did_ they think she was a spy?

"Sir, I know it looks like it, but I'm not a spy-"

"Save it for the Colonel. I don't wanna hear it-"

"Sir, you have to believe me on this, I am NOT a spy-"

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Sobel hissed as he spun Maggie around to face him. "Look at you! You're wearing a uniform and carrying equipment I have never seen before! You showed up on property restricted to non-military personnel! How could you _possibly_ expect me to believe that you're not a spy?"

Alas, he did have a point - but it still didn't stop Maggie from getting flustered and frustrated.

"Goddamn it, I'm _not!_ I'm a paratrooper, for fuck's sake! Do you not see the patch on my arm?"

Sobel stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the words left Maggie's mouth, and she quickly realized that that _might_ not have been the best thing to say to him in that moment. In fact, it was the opposite - it was by far the _stupidest_ thing she could've said to him.

"Women aren't allowed in the paratroops - or in the _army,_ for that matter," he said coldly. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying! I'm telling you, where I'm from, I'm a paratrooper, same as you guys!"

"Is that so? How were you let in, huh? Did you spread your legs for someone? Who-who in their right mind thought to let _you_ in?"

She couldn't stop herself - the words came tumbling out before her mouth got her brain's message to shut up. "You might've been born in the gentleman's era, sir, but my recruiter showed me a helluva lot more respect in 2009 than you _ever_ could!"

Never mind - THAT was the stupidest thing Maggie could've said to him. _Ohhhhh_ _fuck, what have you done?_

"Do you even _hear_ yourself? Do you have any idea how _insane_ you sound right now?"

He didn't give Maggie a chance to answer - he just tightened his grip on her arm and dragged her off to... well, Maggie wasn't quite sure where he was taking her. She highly doubted that it would be good for her, though.

The trees and brush rapidly thinned out, and before Maggie knew it, they were making their way down a trail leading to a base of sorts. Not even a base - more of a camp, really. Khaki green tents sat in neat, orderly rows, and further to the back there were a few wooden structures that looked like administrative quarters or something of that nature.

Of course, with those structures came soldiers - lots of them. Maggie's stomach twisted as they came closer to the camp. With her gear and digital cammies, she was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

And stick out, she did. Every single one of the men that they passed was dressed in olive drab uniforms and garrison caps, something that only worsened Maggie's feelings about her current situation. When they weren't catcalling and whistling, the men were sneaking glances at her, whispering to their buddies. A small handful weren't even _that_ discreet - they stood there, gawking, right in front of her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was making eye contact with some of them as she passed by.

The worst part of it all was the side conversations. She thought the staring had been bad; boy, was she wrong. These men definitely didn't try to hide anything when they spoke.

"Hey fellas, check this out!"

"Where the fuck did she get a screamin' eagle patch?"

"Ya reckon she screwed somebody for it?"

"She looks feisty, this one."

"The fuck kinda uniform is _she_ wearin'?"

"This dame thinks she's a paratrooper!"

 _You're damn right, I'm a paratrooper,_ Maggie thought hotly. _I earned my patch and wings, same as you shitheads._

But she didn't say that. She _couldn't_ say that. As far as she - more like as far as Sobel - was concerned, she wasn't at much liberty to speak. These men were running the show, and as much as she despised it, she was beholden to their rules. For the time being, all she could do was keep silent and keep her head up high.

And that's exactly what Maggie did. Had she been in _her_ time, Klemenhagen probably would've given her a medal or a promotion for the bearing she was maintaining.

After what seemed like an eternity of marching through open space and past hundreds upon hundreds of olive drab-clad soldiers, the three finally approached a large wooden structure - what Maggie quickly found out was the camp headquarters. They passed through the doorway and into the sparse interior, catching a scrawny orderly by surprise and distracting him from whatever he was banging out on his typewriter.

"Captain Sobel? W-W-What are you doing here? Why is there a..." He gestured to Maggie as his way of completing the sentence.

"Is the Colonel in?"

"He is, but I think he's-"

"Please let him know that I'm here," Sobel said curtly, effectively cutting him off. "I have an important matter to discuss with him."

"And the woman?"

Sobel wasn't the only one who gave the orderly an exasperated look when he said that.

He cleared his throat, tugged a little on his shirt collar. "Right. I'll let him know."

"Thank you."

As the orderly stood and maneuvered towards a set of double doors in the middle of the space, Sobel leaned down towards Maggie. "You best hope that the Colonel is half as kind as I'm being right now," he whispered in her ear.

Maggie had to force herself not to both flinch away from him and snort out loud. _Kind? Yeah, right. Kind, my ass._

The doors opened, and the orderly stepped inside briefly. "Sir, Captain Sobel here to see you," he announced before stepping outside and off to the right and allowing Sobel to pass through the door. Maggie, meanwhile, was left to stand outside the entrance, opposite from the orderly, twiddling her thumbs and glancing nervously around the room. _Please let this be a dream, please let this be a dream, please let this be a dream, please let this be a dream_...

 _"What is it, Herbert?"_

 _"Sir, I want to apologize for coming here unexpectedly-"  
_

 _"Don't gimme any damn apologies, Captain,"_ a gruff voice said on the other side of the door. _"If ya got somethin' to say, spit it out; otherwise quit wastin' my time and get outta my office-"_

 _"Sir, we have a problem."_

The commander, ignoring the fact that he'd just been blatantly interrupted by a subordinate officer, paused. " _...And that problem is...?"_

 _"A... A woman, sir."_

Another pause. " _...Care to explain a bit more?"_

Hearing brisk footsteps approaching the door after the question had been voiced, Maggie straightened up as tall and as rigid as she could, waited. Things were about to get very interesting.

The door swung open, and Sobel's face appeared in her line of vision. "You," he said sharply. "Enter, now."

She about-faced right, followed him into the room, face stoic and impassive, movements fluid.

Now, before Sobel stepped off to the side to let her face the commander in question, Maggie assumed that she would be coming face-to-face with one of _her_ regiment commanders, who would - ideally - laugh and wheeze about how good he'd gotten her, and then they'd have a laugh and the day would finally progress the way it should've. This was what Maggie assumed (and desperately hoped for).

When she saw who was actually occupying the room, though, Maggie nearly fainted from shock. At the very least, she stumbled and damn near tripped over her own feet. None other than Colonel Robert "Five-O" Sink was sitting behind the expansive wooden desk before them, watching the both of them with a critical glint in his eyes. No sign of any other regiment commanders, no sign of digital cammy ACUs... Absolutely _nothing._ If she hadn't felt uncomfortable in her two tons of gear and ACUs before, she _really_ did now.

Oh god, how was she going to explain _this? Shit - stay calm, stay calm, stay calm..._

She treated the situation with as much calm and collectedness as she could muster up. She brought her heels together to stand at a rigid attention, then raised her right hand in a short, crisp salute. "Sir, Corporal Margaret Hansen, Alfa Company, 1st Battalion, 506th Infantry." This may have been a bizarre fucking situation she was stuck in, but goddamn it, she wasn't about to crap out on her training in the presence of a high-ranking officer.

Even though said high-ranking officer should've been deader than dead at the present moment.

To his credit, Sink _did_ return the salute - albeit with a hard, skeptical look on his face, which Maggie certainly wasn't going to fault him for. After all, a woman of her rank and occupation in the army was unheard of in his time. In fact, it was impossible and absolutely unthinkable. To have one suddenly standing in front of him was bound to cause some serious confusion, if it could even be called that. She was going to have to choose her words wisely and tread very, _very_ carefully.

He dropped his hand, folded it behind the other on his desk before eyeing her with the previous critical glint. "You have thirty seconds to explain why you're here and why I shouldn't have you thrown in jail," he informed her, his voice clear and sharp. No bullshit, no sugarcoating - he cut straight to the chase and went straight for the throat.

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Sobel cut her off before she even had the chance to begin. "Sir, she was found out in the woods near the trenches. She claims to have joined the army in 2009 but I-"

"Captain Sobel?"

Pause. "Yes sir?"

"When I spoke just now, was that an order for _you_ to speak or an order for _her_ to speak?"

Another pause - and a much more awkward one, at that. "...An order for her, sir."

Maggie had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing as Sobel hung his head in embarrassment. _Serves you right, you prick._

The desire to laugh, however, immediately evaporated when Sink trained his gaze on her again. Shit - now she actually had to talk.

She took a deep breath. "Sir, you have to understand that I... I don't really know _how_ to explain my being here-"

"Well you better figure out a way to explain it, otherwise I have no choice but to turn you in to the authorities," Sink said gruffly. "How did you get here, Miss Hansen?"

"I... I don't really know, sir. One minute, I'm getting ready to jump out of a C-17, and the next, I'm blacking out and suddenly waking up here... Wherever 'here' is..."

At this Sink's eyebrows furrowed. "You mean to tell me you have no idea where you are right now?"

Wow. And to think he was going to jump all over the part about the C-17 and waking up in a completely different place. "No sir, I don't. Last time I checked, though, I was flying somewhere over Fort Campbell."

"Well, you're a long way from Fort Campbell, Miss Hansen. This is Camp Mackall, North Carolina."

 _North Carolina?_ How in the hell did she end up in North Carolina?

Soon enough, though, another thought entered Maggie's stream of consciousness. She'd wound up somewhere well over 600 miles from her original location, just like that, without any logical explanation.

And with that, Maggie found herself entertaining the possibility of time travel once again. If she'd managed to wind up two states over in what seemed like the blink of an eye, then who could say that other strange things hadn't happened in the process? Who could say that she _hadn't_ actually gone back in time?

"Sir, what's the date today?"

Though the question merited an outrageously odd look from Sink, he responded with "June 10th, 1943."

1943\. The impossible had indeed happened. Maggie had traveled through time - and it looked like she was stuck here for the foreseeable future. She suddenly wanted to throw up.

"...Care to tell me what today's date has to do with you being here? And while you're at it, care to tell me why Captain Sobel's spoutin' nonsense about you joinin' the Army in 2009?"

She had to tell him. There was no way she could get out of this - no bullshit, no lies, nothing. She had to do it. What other choice did she have?

She closed her eyes, licked her lips, sighed, _prayed._ This was going to be painful.

"Sir, what the Captain says..." _C'mon Hansen, you can do this..._ "What the Captain says about me isn't nonsense. He's telling the truth."

" _Come again?_ "

She opened her eyes.

"Sir, I'm from the year 2013."

* * *

 **All right, a tad bit shorter than the first chapter, but at least the ball's rolling. Hope you guys enjoyed it, and in the meantime, drop a review and stay tuned for chapter 3! :)**


	3. Beg Pardon and Beg Mercy

**Author's Note:** WHEW. This chapter wound up being a looooot longer than I thought it would. Sorry that it took me a million years to get it to you guys! Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. You guys are amazing and I suuuuuuper appreciate the feedback. :) Anyhoos, enjoy chapter 3 and let me know what you think! Heads up: things are going to get hella interesting in this part. ;)

 **Disclaimer:** As always, I don't own Band of Brothers - only Maggie and anything/anyone else you don't recognize.

* * *

The instant the words left Maggie's mouth she regretted ever saying them; it had to be the craziest, most asinine thing she'd ever said in her whole life.

And the proof of her stupidity was sitting in front of her and standing off to the side, staring at her like she'd spoken in tongues or sprouted a third head or done something so utterly insane that there were no words to explain their feelings. Shit - maybe she _should've_ kept her mouth shut...

"You're _what_?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fucking _fuck_ this was a REALLY bad idea - "Sir, I'm from the year 2013."

 _So much for choosing your words wisely._

"Are you tryin' to be funny, Miss Hansen?"

"No sir, absolutely not."

"Then what the _hell_ is this nonsense about you being from the future?"

"Sir, I know it sounds crazy-"

"You're damn right, it sounds crazy. It _is_ crazy."

Maggie closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath. _Lord, grant me the strength and patience to explain all this without getting the urge to kill someone..._ "I know it sounds crazy, but you _have_ to believe me when I say I'm telling the truth. I'm _not_ from this time period, okay? I was born in 1991, _years and years_ from now. The world I live in is a very different place from the one you live in."

"Different _how_?"

Maggie's gaze darted to the floor and she chewed on her lip. If there was a fork in this conversation that she'd been hoping to avoid, it was this one, because it could either save her ass in epic ways or - more than likely - doom her to a one-way trip to Leavenworth, or the rubber room in a psych ward, or a wall in front of a firing squad - literally the worst possible outcome that Maggie's brain could conjure up, because what she was considering telling these men was _dangerous_ and unbelievably risky.

"Well?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, what was she going to do? _C'mon Mags, say something!_

"We're waiting."

 _FUCKING SAY SOMETHING ANYTHING JUST SPEAK GODDAMN IT!_

"It's - oh god... It's different in a lot of ways, sir - we've won this war, we have the most formidable fighting force out of any of the major world powers, women fight alongside men in the military, we're fighting a war in the Middle East... Like I said, sir, the world I live in is a very different place from the one you live in." She shifted from one foot to the other, body aching under all the weight strapped to her - or was it the weight of the words she'd just said bearing down on her? They were pretty damn loaded, after all...

Both Sobel and Sink reacted according to the order of events Maggie had given them. Naturally, their first reaction was...

"We win the war?"

Maggie nodded at Sink. "We do - and pretty damn decisively, at that."

Sobel scoffed. "I don't believe that for one second. You're lying."

At that, Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Sir, are you saying you don't trust your troops to get the job done?"

Sobel's face went red and he immediately fell silent. Maggie inwardly smirked. _Score one for the Corporal._

"Save the smartass comments for someone else, Miss Hansen," Sink said sternly. "Remember, _you're_ still in the hot seat."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

 _Christ, you really pick the worst times to get mouthy, don't you?_

"The most formidable fightin' force, huh?"

"Yes, sir." If it came down to details, she decided she was going to make it a conscious point to avoid talking about Vietnam and all the shit that came with it. She needed to build confidence, not destroy it - and lord knows, that time period wasn't much of a confidence booster.

Sink leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his broad chest, nodded. "Huh. Now _that_ I'll believe. But..."

Ah, there it was - the dread 'but,' that horrible word that expressed two tons of doubt and skepticism that she was now going to have to dispel. She knew exactly what he was going to say next, so she said it for him:

"You don't believe the part about women in the military." Maggie couldn't really say she was surprised, but it was frustrating and exasperating all the same to know that Sink believed it.

"With all due respect, Miss Hansen," Sink started, "the military is no place for women. The fact that we deal with death and violence alone is reason enough. We also have high standards, and it has been proven time and time again that women simply cannot meet them. I don't doubt that there are a rare few who could meet the standards, but what's the point in allowin' women to serve if only a small handful are actually capable of it?"

"Furthermore," Sobel added in, "men would foolishly reevaluate their priorities if women served alongside them."

In other words, she would be little more than a distraction, a hindrance to the men in her unit. _You motherfucker._

Her eyes narrowed into slits; fire burned in her belly. No one, least of all some chickenshit officer who had never experienced combat at its worst, let alone combat _period_ , was going to tell her how it was.

"Permission to speak frankly, sir?"

"Granted."

"With all due respect, _sir,_ I stand here before you as proof that women do just fine in the military. I've been an active duty member of the Army for the last four years now. More importantly, I've been an active duty member of the 101st Airborne for the last four years. I've served two tours of duty in Afghanistan and was due for a third when I wound up here, and during both tours I was in the company of men who absolutely couldn't have cared less that I was a woman. All that mattered to them was whether or not I was able to get the job done per their standards, and you know what? Because I was held to the same standards as those men and met them in spades alongside hundreds of other women, I was able to do just that.

"I've busted my ass and worked myself to death to be in the Army. I've earned everything I've received - my rank, the Airborne patch on my arm, my jump wings, the respect of my fellow soldiers, and the right to serve my country as a member of the armed forces, and rather than try to knock it down with a bunch of sexist bullcrap, people in my time actually respect that and try to emulate it."

The room instantly went silent as Sink mulled over what Maggie had just said. Maggie, meanwhile, was left to panic over what had just spilled out of her mouth. Jesus H. Christ, how could she say that? How could she be so stupid? It was like she was _trying_ to get herself shipped off to a psych ward...

"Sir?"

No response. Cold sweat began to dew on the back of Maggie's neck. Now she'd done it, now she'd _really_ done it-

"Is that really true?" he asked quietly, looking up at her.

Maggie's heart stuttered in relief. No signs of contempt or disdain in his eyes - just an amazed sort of wonder. Dare she even _think_ it, but maybe, just _maybe,_ this man believed her.

Sobel rolled his eyes and scoffed in annoyance. "While I'm touched by your speech and find this all quite fascinating, it still doesn't explain how you got here, and therefore why we should trust a word you say."

 _Oh for fuck's sake -_ "I already told you both, I. Don't. Know. If I knew, if I had _any_ small idea of how I got here, don't you think I would've told you by now and spared us all the massive headache?"

"You could just be giving us a whole lot of runaround," Sobel said. "Denying and stalling to throw us off from the fact that you're not who you say you are."

He was referring to the possibility of her being a spy again. Maggie groaned.

"For the hundredth time, _I'm not a spy -_ and for Chrissake, I could show you my ID tags as proof... sir! _"_

"Whether or not you show us your tags is irrelevant. For all we know, they could be false. So that brings me back to my original question: why should either of us trust a word you say?"

"Because, one: I don't speak a _word_ of German - I speak French, and pretty shitty French at that; two: I would've sooner chomped down on a cyanide pill than let you take me into custody _if_ I was a spy; and three: I-"

"All right, all right, we get your point, Miss Hansen," Sink interrupted with a huff. "So you're not a spy. I'll call that case closed. However, you still have yet to prove that you're from where... when... you say you are."

"Sir, I'm _wearing and carrying_ the proof." Maggie turned to Sobel then. "It's like you said earlier, Captain - I'm wearing a uniform and carrying equipment you've never seen before. Now that we've established that I'm not spying for the Germans, how else do you explain all this?" she said as she gestured to herself.

Sobel hummed as he looked her up and down. "You raise a valid point, Hansen, but I'm still not convinced."

Maggie sighed. "Yeah, I figured as much. Which is why I'll show you _this._ "

And with that, she reached over her left shoulder, unlooped her rifle from it, and removed it from its cloth casing before holding it up for him and Sink to see. "Before I do anything else, I certify that the safety on this IS switched on, and that no harm can come to you if you touch it."

She then placed it on Sink's desk, took a step back, and allowed the two of them a moment to look over what she'd just presented to them before she cleared her throat and gestured to it.

"Now, do you have _any_ idea what this is? Better yet, have you ever _seen_ anything like this before?"

Both Sink and Sobel were silent as they looked at the rifle sitting on the desk in front of them. As military men with some modicum of education in their background, they knew they were looking at a rifle, but the expressions of awe and confusion on their faces made it quite clear that they hadn't seen anything like this particular one before.

"This is an M4 Carbine, an assault rifle capable of firing in semi-automatic and three-round bursts, as well as mounting a grenade launcher to the barrel. In my time, this is a standard-issue infantry weapon - in other words, what the M1 Garand is to you at the moment. The reason _you_ haven't seen anything like this before is because it hasn't been invented yet. This kind of technology won't exist for another 40 years, and even when it does exist, it's not gonna be picked up for usage by the Army until _at least_ 1994."

" _This_ is your standard-issue weapon?"

"Yes sir, it is."

"And you're able to use it?" Sink asked.

Maggie nodded. "I am. I'm licensed to use an M4 in all its capacities."

Sink went silent once more for a moment, sharing a look with Sobel before turning his focus back to Maggie.

"You're right. We ain't never seen anything like this before. Frankly, I thought the technology we had now was somethin' to be reckoned with, but this..."

"I agree, it is quite impressive," Sobel said. "But" - _oh Christ, here we go again with the buts -_ "being told about what something can do and _seeing_ what it can do are two entirely different things."

Translation: "Put your money where your mouth is."

Maggie's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she smiled sweetly at Sobel. "Well sir, if you and the Colonel here will allow me, I'd be more than happy to give you both a demonstration."

Translation: "Bring. It. On."

Sink, of course, was completely on board with the idea. He even went so far as to suggest putting the current conversation on hold and heading over to the firing range right then and there, which Maggie happily agreed to. If there was one thing that would for-sure showcase at least _some_ of her military training, it was this.

And so they went off. After calling for Sink's personal jeep, the three clambered in and headed off to the firing range on the other side of the camp. The entire four minute ride was silent, for which Maggie was thankful. It allowed her to process what had happened in the last twenty minutes, as well as organize her thoughts and prepare herself for whatever came next.

Which, at the current moment, was going to be demonstrating her skills with an M4 Carbine to one man who had died in 1965 and another who had died in 1987. _No biggie._

When they reached the range, they hopped out, and marched over to the nearest target. Sink, of course, wasted no time in getting down to business. He gestured to the target. "All right," he said, "show us what ya got."

Maggie didn't need to be told twice. She dropped to one knee, switched off the safety, breathed slowly, steadily, aimed down her sights...

 _POP!_

One hit to the forehead.

 _POP!_

One hit to the carotid. Had it been an actual person Maggie was firing at and not a silhouette target, he would've already been so categorically dead that she wouldn't have even bothered with the next shot she took.

Still, she lined up her sights and _POP!_ One hit to the chest.

With a satisfied exhale, she removed her finger from the trigger and switched on the safety before turning to look up at Sink and Sobel. "Should I continue, sirs? I still have plenty of ammo left in this magazine."

Sink shrugged. "Go right ahead."

It was all Maggie needed to hear. With a nod, she hauled herself to her feet, took the M4, and walked all the way to the far end of the range. In the thirty seconds it took for her to get there, she noticed that she had an audience; soldiers lingered nearby, either standing by themselves or in small groups of three and four, whispering and murmuring, waiting to see what she'd do with the space age-looking weapon cradled in her arms.

Maggie smirked. If it was a show they wanted, it was a show they'd get.

As she faced Sink and Sobel, she twisted the upper half of her body towards the first target, switched off the safety, raised the rifle, pressed the butt into the soft part of her shoulder once more, and aimed down her sights. _Knock 'em dead, Mags._

She began squeezing off bursts at the targets, feet carrying her steadily from one to the next as her upper body remained still and strong. Bullets whizzed through the air, slammed into the silhouettes, one, two, three in a second, a succession of hail-Mary, dead-to-rights hits for almost each target she stared down. Maggie grinned to herself. If only Watkins were here to see this; he'd love how much ass she was kicking on the range right now.

She kept going until she'd emptied the magazine - and then she dropped the old one, shoved a fresh one into the loading port, and continued firing until she'd reached the last target all the way at the other end, the one by Sink and Sobel. When she'd finished, she switched on the safety, and lowered her weapon.

"Well sirs? What do you think?"

There was a beat of silence before Sink ventured to speak. "You hit _all_ of those targets?"

"Yes, sir." Granted, she'd hit one or two of those targets in totally nonfatal areas, but she'd hit them all the same - not that it mattered anyway to Sink, who released a low whistle as he looked down the range.

"Got ourselves a regular sharpshooter here, don't we?"

Maggie smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, sir, but I'm no better than my fellow soldiers."

"Hmm. Well, regardless Corporal, I gotta say, whoever trained you sure knew what the hell they were doin'. That was some pretty damn fine shootin' out there."

Maggie only looked at Sink in awe for a moment. He'd called her Corporal - not Miss, not Hansen, but _Corporal._ He'd finally addressed her by her rank. He was beginning to see past her gender, was beginning to see her for who she was and what she wanted to be - a soldier, someone who could serve with honor, bravery, and distinction just as readily in this time as she had in her own.

Perhaps now, it seemed, was a perfect time for her to bring up the idea that had been floating about in her head.

"I'd like to make a request, sir."

Sink raised an eyebrow, a silent prompt for her to speak. Maggie inhaled, exhaled.

"I'd like to be allowed to participate in this war, sir."

There was a beat of silence - and then Sobel burst out laughing. "Surely you must be joking, Miss Hansen."

 _Do I look like I'm joking, you_ _incompetent shitbag?_

Doing her damnedest to ignore Sobel and his amused chuckling, Maggie looked Sink straight in the eye and repeated herself. "I'd like to be allowed to participate, sir."

 _And please god, I hope you say yes, because I've got no other options here._

Sink heaved a long sigh. "I'll be perfectly honest with you, Corporal - I'm not much for a woman fightin' or bein' anywhere near the front lines; the thought of her possibly bein' in danger makes my stomach turn. However, you are no ordinary woman, and it is for this reason that I'm willin' to - _partially_ \- set my concerns aside and designate you as a front-line medic. You will undergo trainin' with our staff, and will then be placed with the appropriate company once you complete it. Whaddaya to that?"

For a second, Maggie could only stare in barely-concealed disbelief at the Colonel. After everything she'd told him, after showing him her skills with her weapon, after he'd addressed her by her rank and praised her shooting, he wanted to make her a nurse because the idea of a fighting woman just didn't jive with him?

 _Shoulda' known the 'seeing past my gender' bit was bullshit._

Her answer was immediate. "Sir, my answer is no."

" _No?_ What the hell do you mean 'no?'"

 _Keep it civil Maggie, don't fly off the handle now -_ "With all due respect, sir, I am so grossly under-qualified to be a medic that designating me as one would be criminal. Not only is it a waste of the skills I have, but you'd also be putting more lives at risk by putting them in my care." She paused, allowed her words and their message to sink in before continuing. "I've seen war before; I've been in combat, and I'm no stranger to violence or getting shot at. I know exactly what to do out there on the front lines and how to best work with the men in those situations. You need all the riflemen you can get your hands on, and I'm telling you, you're _much_ better off with me serving as a rifleman than as a medic. I understand that you're not comfortable with the idea of a woman in combat, but please sir, you have to trust me on this."

At this point, Maggie was fully expecting Sink to fly into a tizzy over her - apparently - wanting to get herself killed. At the very least, Sobel would've done that, had the small tirade from a moment ago been directed at him.

The nod of realization from Sink, and him subsequently asking her how they would pull it off? _That_ she hadn't been expecting.

Truth be told, Maggie hadn't even thought that far ahead. She'd been far more concerned with convincing two men of great importance that she wasn't batshit crazy, and less so with convincing anybody who came after that she had a valid reason for being in the camp with them. Frankly, she wasn't even sure that she _could_ convince anybody that she had a valid reason for being in the camp. Glossing over the fact that she was from 70 years in the future, she was a woman in the Army, a situation so rare and delicate and unheard of in this time that even a halfway reasonable excuse wouldn't be enough to sway people.

Well, _shit._

She pursed her lips, hummed, let her brain wander off in the hopes that she might come up with something out of the blue. _How can I pull this off? How can I swing this and not blow my cover? C'mon, think, think, think..._

She huffed, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, readjusted the M4 cradled in her arms - and then she looked down and she _froze._

 _"This kind of technology won't exist for another 40 years..."_

Maggie's brain began to race. There were precursors to the M4 - several of them, in fact. It took a lot of trial and error with those precursors to get to the gun that was used by modern-day infantry. Trial and error meant experimenting. Experimenting meant doing shit that no one had ever thought of before.

 _Like putting a woman in the military._

And just like that, Maggie had an idea.

She turned to Sink. "I'm an experiment."

That _definitely_ merited a confused look from the Commander of the 506th. "Come again?"

"That's the rationale for my being here - I'm an experiment, a test to see if women can actually hack it as soldiers on the front line. That's how we pull all this off, sir." When Sink continued to stare at Maggie with the same confused look on his face, she heaved a sigh. "Look, I know it's out there, but think about it. A huge number of the world's inventions have come out of the military. War forces people to think and do things differently; it creates change and moves us forward. Who's to say that my being here isn't part of us moving forward?"

"You do bring up an interesting point." Sink then fell silent and began to pace, tucking his chin into his chest and humming in thought. It didn't take a genius to know that he was weighing pros and cons, that he was wrestling with common knowledge and every instinct to say 'no' and shitcan the whole thing. It was, without a doubt, a tough decision he was making - one that Maggie prayed would be in her favor.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence and pondering, Sink closed his eyes and breathed deeply. And then...

"Captain, what's your barracks situation?"

"Sir?"

"Do you have any space in _any_ of your barracks for the Corporal here?"

Maggie could've sworn she saw at least twenty different thoughts and emotions ranging from shock to skepticism to 'what the hell you can't be serious' to some sort of aggravation pass across Sobel's face in a span of ten seconds. "Sir... Sir, I-"

"Do you, Captain?"

"I... Yes, I do. Private Lora of Second Platoon was sent home yesterday for medical reasons, but we have yet to fill his bunk."

"Good. The Corporal here will fill that bunk. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

Sink turned to Maggie. "Should I expect any problems from you, Corporal?"

 _Problems? Problems, what the hell do you mean prob - oh._ He was talking about fraternization. In that case...

"No sir, absolutely not."

A nod. "Good." He paused, turned back to Sobel once more. "Captain, find Lieutenant Winters and escort him back to my office. We're gonna have much to talk about."

"Certainly, sir."

As Sobel headed away from them, Sink looked down at Maggie, his eyes full of... well, Maggie wasn't quite sure what it was - but she would've put it somewhere near anxiety or unease. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Corporal? Are you sure this will work?"

"Well, sir..." Maggie chewed on her lip for a brief moment. "I really hope it does." She knew it wasn't the answer Sink was expecting from her, but she couldn't - and wouldn't - feed him a line of bullshit when she herself had no idea how it would play out. For this, they were just going to have to wait and see what happened. With any luck, the men she was assigned to would take the lie at face value and not go searching for deeper truths.

"I really hope so, too," Sink said with a sigh. "Otherwise we're both in for a world of shit."

Maggie swallowed uneasily. Not the most pleasant of notions, but there it was...

"Now come on - we still got quite a bit to take care of before tomorrow rolls around." And with that, Sink hopped in his jeep, and motioned for Maggie to do the same.

Wordlessly, she placed her rifle on the rear bench, and clambered in. Indeed, they did have a lot of work to do.

* * *

By the time Maggie and Sink had returned to HQ, Sobel had already gone and returned with Lieutenant Winters, and the both of them were patiently waiting outside the doors to Sink's office.

Maggie, of course, was practically vibrating in her seat when the jeep finally pulled up in front of the building and came to a standstill. In just a few short moments, she would be meeting one of the best and finest officers to ever serve in the US Army. Aside from the distinct possibility of getting back to her own time, absolutely _nothing_ could have excited her more than that.

The two breezed through the front doors, past the orderly still clacking away on his typewriter, and into the office where both the Captain and the Lieutenant were waiting. Sink grinned when his eyes fell on them.

"Talk about perfect timin'," he said. "Lieutenant, there's someone here I'd like you to meet."

Now, coming face-to-face with the commander of the 506th PIR was one thing; coming face-to-face with none other than Dick Winters was an altogether different matter.

The soft-spoken leader of Easy Company had been a longtime hero of Maggie's. He was everything that she aspired to be: brave, fair, kind, and competent above all. Never in her life had she imagined that she'd have the opportunity to be in his presence, let alone serve under his leadership; after all, he'd died two years after she'd joined up. Now, here she was, standing in front of him and on the verge of joining his company of heroes.

"Corporal Margaret Hansen, Lieutenant Dick Winters," Sink said as he gestured to Winters. "He currently serves as the XO of E Company, and when you're not reportin' to Captain Sobel, you'll be reportin' to him."

Winters nodded in greeting and gave Maggie a soft smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Corporal."

Maggie was beaming from ear to ear as she saluted him. "The pleasure's all mine, sir." She then took his extended hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. Jesus Christ, she could hardly believe it - she was shaking hands with Dick Winters. Dick Winters!

"Now, Dick, I'm assuming that Captain Sobel informed you of the situation on the way over here?"

"He did, sir."

"Good. Then you know what comes next."

"I do, sir, but... Do you think this is wise?"

Everyone turned to look at Sink as soon as Winters had asked the question. Maggie, in particular, stared at him with nervous eyes; after all, what came out of his mouth next would determine how lucky - or how screwed - she was.

"Well, Lieutenant..." _Please, please, please -_ "Regardless of whether or not I think it's wise, it ain't my call. It's the government's, and the government has seen fit to add a woman to our ranks. I'm just here to make sure their orders are executed."

"Right, sir." Winters paused, readjusted his stance. "So, what should I tell the men?"

At that, Sink told Winters exactly what Maggie had told him earlier - that she was an experiment, a test to see whether or not women could hack it on the front lines with the men. Of course, he was told not to say it in those exact words; in fact, Sink preferred that Winters not even mention that Easy Company's newest member was a woman at all. It was, in his words, "something that the men need to be eased into." Though Maggie didn't necessarily agree with that plan of action, she kept silent. It wasn't like she had much of a better plan, anyway.

"Will do, sir. I'll go make an announcement. Corporal, I will see you tomorrow."

Then, Winters raised his right hand in a salute, turned on his heel, and walked out of the office with Sobel following close behind, leaving Maggie alone in the office with Sink.

For the next ten minutes, he all but grilled Maggie on just about everything he could think of, from the state of the military in her time and history tidbits, to her own life and what she'd seen during her tours in the Middle East. She spoke freely about her Army and its nuances and workings, and happily rattled off important dates and events that came up in the years following the war.

When it came to her personal life and the shit she'd seen on deployments, though, she completely and totally clammed up. Regardless of who she was talking to, there were too many aspects of her life that she wasn't ready to discuss with other people - hell, that she wasn't even ready to discuss with herself. Those years in Afghanistan still needed processing, and she was _nowhere_ near that point.

If only Maggie could tell Sink that.

At best, all she could do was smile apologetically and say, "I'm sorry sir, I'm not quite in a position to discuss that." She knew it was bullshit - _Sink knew_ she knew it was bullshit - but thankfully, it was left at that.

Of course, she might not get so lucky a second time around.

Before the conversation could go any further, Sobel returned, strolling through the doors and coming to a stop in front of Sink's desk.

"My men have been informed, sir. They are preparing the Corporal's bunk as we speak and will be ready to fold her into the unit around 0700 tomorrow morning."

"Excellent. All that's left to do now is assign her a uniform and all her gear."

Maggie frowned. "What about my old gear? I can't exactly be toting that around now."

"Which is why you'll leave it here with me."

 _Okay, that was easier than I thought it would be..._ "And my rank patches and jump wings?"

"I'll take care of that. Captain, if you'd be so kind as to escort the Corporal here to the supply warehouse and get her set up with the necessary equipment..."

Sobel nodded. "Yes, sir, right away. Corporal, if you'll follow me this way."

And so she dropped her ruck, her chutes, and everything else that was no longer considered useful, and off she went with the Captain. They both maintained silence and a complete lack of eye contact the entire way to the warehouse, not that Maggie complained. She had nothing to say to Sobel, and even if she did, she doubted it would have been pleasant.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached the warehouse. Within an hour, they had all but raided it, and soon enough Maggie had been issued a set of ODs, jump boots, socks, skivvies, hygiene equipment, and a veritable laundry list of other clothing and gear, all of which she had to stuff into a single C bag. The only items that she _didn't_ leave the supply warehouse with were menstrual pads and a Class A uniform; in Sobel's words, it was an unnecessary item for someone who technically didn't even exist, so there was no point in getting fitted for one. As for the pads, those were items that she could get at the aid station. Sobel didn't linger on that topic for too long - it was quite obvious from the look of discomfort on his face that menstruation and all that accompanied it was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

Luckily for him, though, Maggie only nodded and moved on to the next topic, which was how the rest of the day would progress.

"Well," he sighed, "I would imagine that you'll be put in the guest quarters for tonight."

"Right, sir."

"If I were you, I'd spend my time tonight getting acquainted with your new gear and making sure that everything is all set for tomorrow. I expect you to be fully prepared tomorrow morning; you may be a woman, but you'll be treated just the same as the men - and just like them, you _will_ be punished if you're unprepared. Do I make myself clear, Corporal?"

 _Careful Sobel, your chickenshit is showing..._ "Yes, sir."

"And Corporal?"

Maggie frowned. "Yes, sir?"

"Regardless of what you've already told Colonel Sink, if I catch wind of you getting too close to my men, I _will_ have you thrown out of this unit and out of the army." He leaned down, got right in her face as he spoke. This time, Maggie did flinch away from him when his face got too close to hers. "Keep your hands to _yourself,_ Corporal. Am I understood?"

She stared him down, steeled her mouth into a hard line. "Yes, _sir._ "

"Good. Dismissed."

And with that, Sobel turned on his heel, and stalked off before Maggie had the chance to salute him. She only shook her head and huffed.

 _Fuckin' asshole_.

Thankfully, the rest of the day passed with little to no fanfare or issue, for which Maggie was grateful. Though this certainly wasn't the end of it, she'd had enough for one day and she welcomed the relative calm of being left on her own for the night. It allowed her plenty of time to sort through her new gear and - more importantly - collect her thoughts and emotionally prepare herself for what was to come. Lord knows she was going to need it.

Maggie wound up spending almost the whole evening preparing for the next day. Though Sink had told her she was welcome to get something to eat in the mess hall, she chose not to go; her appetite was nowhere to be found, and even if she had one, her stomach was so jumbled with anxiety that she was certain she would've puked it right back up. Though her stomach growled and complained, she ignored it - she wasn't going to chance it.

The hours soon blurred into each other, and day eventually turned into night. Feeling herself growing tired, she began to strip out of her uniform - she removed her boots, undid the buckle around her waist and removed her pants, pulled off her jacket...

And stopped. It had only just occurred to Maggie that this might be the last time she'd ever don digital cammies, don the uniform she'd worn for the last four years, and quite frankly, it startled her, unsettled her. The present had now become the past, faster than she'd ever thought it would, and soon, it would fade into memory.

She took one long, final look at her jacket, at the velcro patches on the arms and the airborne wings embroidered above the breast pocket - and then she folded it into a crisp square, and shoved it into the C bag without another moment's hesitation. Though it probably wasn't wise to hang on to it, it was one of the few remaining pieces of her old life. She couldn't bear to part with it - not now.

For now, though, it would remain hidden from view and mind, buried amongst her things - and hopefully, some day, she'd be able to wear it again.

She finished undressing, set her things aside for tomorrow, and then she pulled back the covers on the bed, climbed in, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning came bright and early for Maggie - outrageously early, as a matter of fact. She may have gone to sleep exhausted, but her nerves and mile-a-minute thoughts had forced her awake at 3 in the morning, and try as she might, she wasn't able to settle down and catch some more sleep before reveille. So, resigning herself to early-morning insomnia, she prepared for the day ahead - she rolled out of bed, put on her ODs, laced up her new boots ( _God,_ how stiff they were... Doing anything in them was going to be a bitch for the next few days), pulled and twisted her hair back into a neat bun, and brushed her teeth. She then made the bed, pulling the covers so taut that she could've bounced a quarter off of them, and cleared and cleaned up the small space. When _that_ had been taken care of, she went over the items crammed in her C bag one more time and made sure that nothing was amiss.

Finally, when that and everything else that she could think of had been taken care of, Maggie just sat there, staring out the window at the lightening sky and rising sun, and let her thoughts wander. With the exception of venturing outside and standing at attention for reveille when it sounded over the camp loudspeakers, it was all she did for the next three hours. It was all she was capable of doing.

At 0700, there came two quick, gentle knocks on her door - Winters, no doubt coming to collect her. _Oh boy._

Exhaling slowly, she stood, smoothed out any wrinkles she might've had on her ODs, and opened the door. When she came face-to-face with Winters on the other side, she stood tall and saluted him. "Good morning, sir," she said crisply.

"Good morning, Corporal," he replied as he returned the salute. "Are you ready?"

Maggie nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be." It was a flat-out lie; nothing in all the world could've prepared her for what she was about to embark on and who she was about to meet - but she wasn't about to let Winters know that.

"Good. Follow me to your barracks, then."

This was it - the moment where she carved and forged a new timeline in history. Lord only knew what would happen - but she was determined to do her bit and answer her country's call for help.

And she would be doing it alongside some of America's finest heroes. _Do them proud, Mags. Do them proud._

With a sigh, she picked up her C bag, slung it over her shoulder, and followed Winters outside into the bright North Carolina sun.

Time for her own rendezvous with destiny.

* * *

 **Well, Christmas is coming early next chapter - Maggie finally meets the boys! Prepare yourselves for a lot of snark. ;)**

 **Quickie note: Yes, Maggie is a rifle sharpshooter. No, that does NOT make her an expert marksman. 'Sharpshooter' is like the higher middle ground of weapon accuracy; the vast majority of people in the armed forces who do these tests tend to fall into that category. In other words, Maggie is good with a rifle, but she's no Shifty Powers, who would absolutely be considered an expert marksman.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review and let me know what you think! Also, if you have any questions/need me to clear up anything, shoot me a message. I'd be happy to explain things. :)**


End file.
